Counting hairs
by Litalainie
Summary: Post "Driven" one shot. Just one possible option for the myriad of emotions and thoughts that must have been going through KB's mind after she was reunited with Castle. (Based on the review of a lover person I'm reposting this fic as a T. There's a little language and mild sexual reference, but nothing too harsh and burny for innocent minds. ;))


Ever since watching "Driven" my mind's been plagued by what it must have been like for KB that first night lying back in bed with the man she was suppose to be married to. Would it have felt strange, normal, comforting? This is just one tiny option of what she might have felt.

Also this was the kick in the pants I've desperately needed to get some of my Castle imaginings OUT of my mind and ON to the page.

Cheers, Lita.

Disclaimer: As if.

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><p>I counted the hairs on your arms tonight. That sounds weird, huh. I don't know what number I got up to, but I kept counting until I came to a freckle and then whatever number I was up to would disappear from my mind as I replaced the counting with connecting. Joining each freckle to the next, reminding myself that I <em>know <em>these hairs and freckles, just like I _know _that you're really here breathing, snuffling, twitching in our bed.

The twitching startles me. Every time you jump, I jump. Then when I calm my heart back down I study your face and wonder. Are they nightmares you're having Rick, or is it just one of those falling dreams, a hypnagogic jerk? But if they're nightmares, what are they of? You say you don't remember and I believe you, I do, Castle, but is what's happening there somewhere in your subconscious?

I know you. I know I know you. You're not lying about this, not like I did. But how do we find answers if neither of us knows which questions to ask? Funny thing is, that's all I seem to be full of at the moment, question after question. All the wrong ones it seems.

Your face looks sore. I almost just slid out of bed to find some aloe gel, but I know the cold would wake you and if I'm honest, I don't want to be separated from your touch right now. Not now that we're finally together again. It felt so strange when we were ready for bed tonight. Before I came to sit next to you and bury my head in you chest I was nervous to touch you. Kind of like the first time you see someone after that first kiss or first shag. When you're not sure what kind of new touching basis you're on now. Do you kiss hello? On the cheek, lips? I never felt that with you though. I was annoyed that you made me hide in your closet, but not nervous about what we were, what we'd become. I think I knew even then, that you were it for me. My one and done.

Ugh! But _why aren't we DONE now Castle? _What the fuck _happened? _We should have been married for two months now. We should have been on our amazing honeymoon. I should still be aching from all the uninterrupted, spectacular, mind-blowing sex we said we were going to have. I should still be shaking Maldives sand from all my clothes. We should be tanned from head to toe, because we weren't even going to bother to take suits with us. But we are not _both _tanned. Not even you're tanned yet.

Your brow crinkles every now and then and you whimper in your sleep. Is that the pain from your burn or more bad dreams? The scars on your face almost seem to jut out like white embossed flowers on a rose colored table cloth. I can't believe I just compared your lovely face to a table cloth. I must remember to tell you that tomorrow. Not that you'll thank me for the likeness, but you might laugh and God knows we _need _to laugh right now.

I'm sorry I couldn't laugh with you earlier. I know you went straight to your coping mechanism in the hospital, but I was so confused and scared I couldn't go there with you. Now when I look at your face I see the faintness of your smile lines and all I want is to see them deepen. I want to study the way your eyes narrow, but shine with the laughter that seems to want to burst from every inch of your face. I adore that about you. Your ability to show and share joy.

That first year that I knew you I locked my jaw up _so _many times from clenching my teeth too tight, desperately trying not to show the joy you exuded. Damned glad I gave up _that _fruitless quest. I almost had to buy a mouth guard to sleep in. Sexy, huh?

Your calf is heavy on my leg, but not as heavy as it should be. You're thinner, Rick. I love your shape. I love that even now, here in your arms, you encompass me. I know _you _know I can take care of myself, but the security of being wrapped up in you is a peace I never knew before. Not until that first night when we managed to tire ourselves out enough between rounds two and three to sleep for, what was is, about 40 minutes?

I'm so tired. I think I haven't really slept for two months. I searched for you in my dreams, Castle. I almost came to rely on them to help me find new pieces of the puzzle. New questions my waking mind hadn't thought to ask, new people I could contact.

I called _everyone, _Rick. I promise you I tried everyone and everything and then you show up in a _boat_, from _Maine? _Oh, Rick where the fuck _were you?_

_—-_

"Beckett…Kate. Kate, shh. It's ok. I'm here. I'm here now."

I must have dropped off. I must have moved in my sleep and broken the contact of our skin. My shirt is damp with sweat. My pillow's wet with tears and screams.

"I'm so sorry, Kate."

"No, no. I'm sorry. I woke you. I must have been dreaming. I can't remember what, but my pillows kinda gross now."

"Chuck that one and come back here."

I claw off my top then shuffle back into you. Your chest hairs tickle my spine. When did you take your shirt off?

"My heart's racing."

"Well, at least I can still do that for you."

"Not funny, Castle."

"Little bit funny." Your voice is thick and sleepy. "Can you fall back to sleep?"

"Yeah, I'll just count your hairs again."

"Weird. N'kay-love-you-though." Your words join as sleep overtakes you and I start to count again.


End file.
